Carrot-top Snapped
by Alliecallienip
Summary: Something happened in the Weasley family to change them forever, and Molly is /not/ handling it well... Chapter Three up! (short)
1. Prologue

_Ginny Weasley turns her freshly scrubbed face towards her mother, her characteristic autumn-red hair wet and mussed and tangled. "Mum!" she calls, her sweet voice filled with laughter, and Molly hurries towards her youngest._

_Ginny wears a blue and green plaid jumper with buckles on the straps and a plain white blouse under that. Her fourteen year old legs are clad in thick white tights and black MaryJanes fit snugly on her feet. She still doesn't have much of a figure; no, her body is thin and willowy, without any of the curves that rest so comfortably on her mother. And she is still short--well, five foot exactly, and that's not tall._

_"Yes, my darling?"_

_"Brush my hair for me, Mum?" she asks, and turns her back towards her mother. A comb appears as if by magic in Molly's hand, and she doesn't seem the least surprised at either the arrival of the comb or her only daughter's request._

_"Of course, dearie!" And suddenly they are both sitting, and Molly is running the comb skillfully through the brilliant auburn hair._

_Ginny winces as Molly tugs at a snarl. "Ouch, Mum, that hurts..."_

_"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," she replies, her own honey-thick voice filled with concern. She slows in her strokes with the black plastic comb and takes her time to unravel the knot._

_"Ouch, Mum, that hurts!" the daughter cries again, her beautiful face wrinkling in an expression of pain Molly is sure she couldn't have caused._

_"But...darling, I'm not yanking at all..." She works even more carefully, and soon the knot is out. She brushes gladly through the red-head's hair from root to tip, satisfied._

_"MUMSY!" Ginny screams in pain, and Molly drops the comb in surprise. Where the comb's teeth have traced, already blood is welling, mixing with and matting her fiery hair. Then they are standing, and Ginny is holding her head and wailing, and Molly is apologising as much as she can, horrified that somehow a comb tipped with glass has made its way into her possession, and even worse, that she has used it on her beloved daughter._

_Molly's wand is suddenly in her hand as she calls desperately after her daughter. "Let me heal you, sweetie, I can heal you, with magic!"_

_And Ginny, her precious Ginny, only daughter and youngest child, turns to her and screams, her face and voice contorted into pure hatred and violence. "MAGIC ISN'T REAL!" she shrieks, and tears run down her face, and the tears aren't normal melted diamonds like they usually are but tiny drops of blood. And her eyes roll back in her head as she collapses to her knees, her head falling forward and the trails of blood from the comb are now rivers, flowing and staining that pure white blouse a broken, poisoned crimson..._

_And Molly can see the Gryffindor banners swaying from the ceiling above her, red, red as her daughter's hair, red as her daughter's blood, red as the roses she KNOWS are dying..._

_And a screaming sob rises into her own throat but she can't force it out, can't stop staring at what she's done to her beloved, darling daughter, and the black cheap comb is back in her hands and she trying to break it in half, but it holds fast. She claws at it, but her fingernails break off one by one until she's scratching at it with bloodied fingertips and STILL she can't scream, and everything is cold, colder than death, cold as Dementor's domain, but the blood is so icy hot and it burns..._

_She can scream, then, and she does, her voice piercing the bloodied fog with a shrill note of desperate anguish, catching with sobs and heavy with unshed tears, but she doesn't WANT to cry, because Weasleys cry blood, not diamonds..._

Fred leaned over and cuffed George on the ear. "It's Mum again," he muttered. His twin rolled over to look at him without emotion. 

"So?" he replied in a hissing whisper, then turned once more and returned to slumber. People can get used to anything. 

Ron stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the scream to come, and when it did, he yawned. Finally. No use being woken up; might as well stay awake. He waited patiently for the high-pitched wail to swing its way down into noisy sobs, then weeping and sniffles, and when it grew quiet enough that he was able, he fluffed up his pillow and slept. 

Percy flinched in his sleep, but did not wake. He was lost too deeply in his own world of dream-fog shadows to rouse for his mother's cry. His arms tightened around the worn pink bear, one-eyed and patched with great clumps of fur missing and half the rags inside gone, well loved by his only little sister. She didn't need it anymore and it provided him with a misty comfort. Her smell still lingered just behind the raggedy ears. 

Bill woke abruptly to the sound of his mother's scream. He glanced at the clock beside his bed, the glowing yellow numerals vivid in the blackness of the night. Two seventeen. Right on schedule. Charlie, in his bed across the room, did the same. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and for a second it's not apparent whether their gazes had crossed at all. Each murmuring a soft sigh or prayer, they drew their respective covers to their chins and stared moodily into the darkness. 

Arthur gently shook his wife out of her nightmare and held her closely while she cried. 

Shame it took a tragedy for them all to be home again.   
  



	2. Chapter One-In Which Ginny Receives Perm...

"Oh,_ please_, Mum!" Ginny begged, coming around her mother from behind to stare pleadingly into her eyes. Her bright red hair was tamed, for the moment, by two short braids by either ear. 

Molly Weasley frowned in response, blowing a wispy strand of fire from her eyes and glancing reproachfully at her daughter. "Virginia," she began in exasperation, retying the apron knotted at her waist while she spoke. "Your father and I have discussed this; we just don't think you're old enough to stay home the weekend by yourself--" 

"I'm fourteen, Mum!" Ginny shrieked, grabbing Molly by the arm and begging silently with her expression. "You don't think I'm too old; you won't let me because I'm a girl! Ron was allowed to stay home alone overnight when he was _thirteen_--" 

"Not for a whole weekend, now, just overni--" 

"--and Dad already said I could stay if you said it was all right! _Please_, mother!" she cries. "You'll only be gone two nights! Come on, Mum," she wheedles, "Charlie'll understand. He knows that I don't like Romania..." 

"Well..." Molly cupped her hand over the tip of the mop handle and rested her chin on top, thinking with a doubtful expression on her face. 

"And Mum, you KNOW Percy'll only be a handful of Floo powder away! Penelope likes me, too, she wouldn't care if I popped in 'cause I was scared or something. But I won't be," she adds quickly. "And Arabella--" 

"That's Mrs. Figg, dear." 

"--Mrs. Figg wanted me over for a cup of tea this weekend! Oh, _please_ don't make me go with you!" she begged, almost near tears. 

Molly sighed. "Oh, but Ginny, you know Charlie wanted to see you--" 

"He'll understand! I'll owl him before you go on Friday." 

"And I thought you didn't like cabbage--?" 

Slight pause. "I'm developing a taste for it," Ginny replied hesitantly. 

"All right, all right! You can stay!" Molly threw up her hands in despair, then fought to keep her balance as her only daughter gave a loud squeal and nearly tackled her with a huge hug. She laughed helplessly. 

"Thank you, Mumsy, thank you thank you thank you! You won't be sorry you let me!" Ginny cried, squeezing her mother tightly. 

"Good! Stir the soup, would you?" Molly attacked the floor again with vigor, scrubbing it hard with the end of the mop as Ginny dubiously crossed to where the pot was almost boiling over and picked up the wooden spoon, stirring as commanded. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. 

"Oh, ick, Mum, what're you making?" 

"Cabbage stew," her mother replied noncommittally, fighting not to grin as Ginny let out a distressed wail.   
  
  



	3. Chapter Two-In Which All Weasleys Are Ac...

"..and, oh, I don't know, Arthur, I just don't feel comfortable!" Molly wound up, frowning into the mirror at her husband, who stood behind her, patiently running a cheap black plastic comb through his wife's thick red hair. 

"She's right, you know...we did let Ron stay home by himself at thirteen." 

"Oh, I know that, but it's different! Ron's a boy." 

Arthur chuckled, handing Molly the comb as he turned her around to face him. "Molly, darling, Ginny's a smart young lady. I think we can trust her with this." She grimaced, then sighed. 

"I know we can, Arthur, I just feel so uneasy about the whole thing...ahh, no matter. Are you finished packing?" She turned towards the bed, pulling a pair of socks out of the dresser drawer and cramming it into the already over-stuffed bag. 

"Yeah." He paused, then handed another pair of socks for her to pack. "Well, wait add these..." She did so silently, a worried look still on her face. Gently he gripped her by the shoulders. "Molly, listen. Ron'll be at Black's house with Harry, perfectly safe now that he's been cleared. Fred and George are fine working at that silly joke shop; you know they won't be home for a week yet! Percy's with Penelope, out on their own and, if you'll remember, expecting your first grandchild in the spring..." A tinge of pleasure tinted her cheeks as he reminded her. "Bill's safe in Egypt working for Gringotts and we're going to visit Charlie! All Weasley children accounted for!" 

"But Ginny!" she protested anyway. "The youngest! The only girl! Home alone for a weekend!" 

"She'll be_ fine,_ Molly!" Arthur insisted, releasing her shoulders and leaning in to kiss her gently. "I promise. Now, come on, grab your bag, Charlie's waiting." 

With a frown settled firmly upon her features, she picked up her bag and followed her husband downstairs, carefully scrutinizing the clock in the living room. 

MOLLY and ARTHUR pointed steadily towards HOME, though if she squinted a little she could imagine it swerved towards TRAVELING. RON was TRAVELING, GINNY was HOME (in the garden, Molly supposed), and BILL, CHARLIE, FRED, GEORGE, and PERCY were all directly on WORK. All safe; not a one even approaching MORTAL PERIL. 

Molly breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Ginny, dear!" she called, setting down her bag and bustling to the door. "We're leaving. Come kiss your parents good bye!" 

And there was Ginny, reading contentedly under a tree. She looked up, gave a huge grin, and leaped to her feet, scurrying inside and into her mother's waiting arms, hugging her tightly. "Bye, Mum--have a good time! Tell Charlie I love him!" 

"Oh, I will, sweetie," she replied, returning the hug and kissing her daughter's cheek. "Have fun, Ginny, and be good. Don't disappoint us. Absolutely no one spends the night...if you need anyone, you know you can go to Percy's, or Ar- Mrs. Figg's, if things get bad. You know where I keep the pots and pans--oh, dear, be careful!" And she swept Ginny into her arms again, hugging her as if for the last time. 

Arthur tapped Molly's shoulder. "Give me time to say goodbye to our brave pioneer!" he called, laughing, and swinging his giggling little girl into his arms. She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as well. 

"Have a good time, Daddy!" she giggled, then slid down to the ground and ran to pick up her book, taking up exactly where she left off. Molly watched her almost tearfully for a moment, then turned and returned inside, Arthur close behind. 

"Sure grow up fast, don't they?" he verbalized her thoughts, picking up his wife's small bag and his own medium sized. "At least she's still our little girl--loves her Daddy and Mumsy and isn't afraid to show it." Gruffly he approached the fireplace. "You first, Molly..." 

She nodded absently, stepping closer and taking a handful of Floo powder, throwing it into the fireplace and reciting clearly, "Dragon's Sanctuary, Romania!" and stepping in. 

Her husband followed a few moments later, while their daughter read in the front yard, on her own for the first time, if only for a weekend... 


	4. Chapter Three-In Which Molly and Arthur ...

"Thanks so much, Charlie, it's been wonderful. Come home and visit your poor ailing parents more often!" Molly laughed in delight, hugging her grown son tightly. He grinned back, wrapping his arms completely around his mother and returning the embrace. 

"I've missed ya, Mum," he replied good-naturedly, teasingly tousling her shoulder-length red hair much the way she often did to him. "Keep Dad out of trouble, won't you?" 

"Of course!" she grinned, hugging him once more and then stepping back while her husband embraced his son. "Ready to go, Arthur?" she asked him, picking up her bag and handing his to him. 

"Ready. Goodbye, Charlie!" Arthur grinned at him, then reached for a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. As the flames turned green, he stepped into it while saying easily, "The Burrow!" and was gone. 

Molly gave one last loving kiss to her son before following. "The Burrow!" 

She shook ash from her robes in disgust as she stepped from the fireplace. "Oh, yuck, Arthur, we need to clean this again..." She trailed off as she realised her husband was no longer in the room with her. "Now, where on earth?" she murmured, setting her bag down and beginning to explore the house. 

She entered the kitchen, which was silent, and the dining room as well. "Arthur?" she called, then raised her voice slightly in pitch. "Ginny?" 

No response. 

She wandered into Ginny's room--empty, and the bed, made perfectly. She patted a corner of the smoothed, well-used quilt and smiled in pride. Maybe her little girl was finally growing up--she hated to make her bed, and Molly had to remind her constantly. Finally she was beginning to obey. 

Still no Ginny. A slight frown settled on her only lightly aging features. "Now, where could that girl be?" she muttered aloud. "Arthur? Ginny, where are you? Come greet your mum!" She was interrupted by her husband's hoarse shout back in the living room. "Molly!" 

She rushed into the room. "Yes, dear, what is i--oh, my God..." A pale and shaking Arthur was pointing to the grandfather clock, where her attention had been directed immediately. 

MOLLY and ARTHUR: HOME   
RON: TRAVELING   
BILL, CHARLIE, FRED, GEORGE, and PERCY: WORK. 

And the small wooden hand reading GINNY was splintered into a thousand pieces, completely unreadable. 

The hands of the clock broke only for one reason. 

Molly's shrill scream chased the gnomes from the garden.   



End file.
